Moving On
by theresnodustinheaven
Summary: Lydia spends her last moments in the Maitland household with her surrogate parents before giving silent goodbyes.


Charles and Delia Deetz had already moved out of the house. The fiery redhead of a wife had somehow convinced her husband that her artwork would take off more back in the city, and he agreed to moving back once again—perhaps it was due to the fact that she was getting better at her craft, especially when sculpting Betelgeuse in all of his glory; no one understood it, but it was good, and therefore, they liked it. When the odd couple announced that they were moving, the Maitlands had no interjections, nor did Lydia Deetz, whom, of which, was all grown up.

That meant that she would be leaving sometime too.

It was hard making the decision of leaving the ghastly couple here alone, and it was hard for them to agree to it. Adam and Barbara really had no say in what Lydia was going to do with her life, and yet, they still mulled the thought of her leaving over. What would happen if they were left here alone? Everyone else would think that the New England home was vacant once more. What if Jane sold it to another family? What if they were _worse _than the Deetzes? The quaint couple didn't want those things to happen, but more importantly, they didn't want Lydia to go. In the end, however, they both came to the conclusion that she was grown up, and she didn't need them anymore. She was free to do whatever she wished.

Right now, she wished to sit at the dining room table and periodically sip from a cup of coffee, which is what she was doing at the moment.

Today was the day that she'd finally moving away from Winter River, Connecticut . . . And from her dead, surrogate parents. The Maitlands agreed to helping her pack up before she left, but that thought ceased to cross the young woman's mind until a loud thumping was heard from the second flight of stairs, causing her ears to perk up as well as her brown eyes to look up as well. As she listened closely, there seemed to be a faint muttering of foul language that she had heard many times before. Then, a few more thumps, and finally, the noise of something heavy being dragged upon wood. Lydia was going to get up and help the person that was dragging her last suitcase down the stairs, but a curly-haired ghost had just floated into the room.

"Hi, Barbara," Lydia greeted softly.

After the ghost had greeted her surrogate daughter in return, she took a seat across from the girl and let her fingernails drum lightly on the table, smiling.

Lydia frowned slightly as she took in Barbara's appearance. She wasn't aware that ghosts could age, or the fact that they could age in appearance . . . Or maybe it was the fact that Lydia never really had a change to look Barbara over during these past few years. Well, whatever the case may be, it was apparent that Barbara was getting older. Her chocolate brown eyes looked tired, and small bags always seemed to accompany them nowadays; whether that was from a lack of sleep or something else, Lydia wasn't quite sure. She looked much more frail and bony than meaty and somewhat pudgy. And other than that, the pale woman couldn't tell much of a difference in Barbara.

Now, these changes weren't drastic in the slightest. In fact, it was as if you would have to study this woman's face to see any of these small changes. From a quick glance, Barbara looked as _alive _and _young _as ever, but over the past ten years, there were signs of aging.

"So," Barbara blinked, "today's the day."

"Mmhmm."

"You're not going to need us anymore."

". . . N-no. But, well, I would, but you can't come, and I don't want it to seem like—"

"Shh." A cold hand was extended and gingerly placed upon Lydia's shoulder. "I understand. It's hard letting go of a bond like this." She sighed slightly, eyes searching for hope upon the table. "Adam and I were fearing that this day would come too soon. We'll miss—"

_**THUMP—T-T-T-THUMP.**_

Both heads immediately turned at the sound of loud thumps once more. This time, however, a black suitcase had rolled down the stairs and landed on its side in the living room. Behind it was a middle-aged ghost, scratching the back of his neck while his other hand pulled at his red shirt beneath his flannel. As he craned his neck into the doorway that lead to the dining room, he colored slightly when he caught sight of two pairs of brown eyes staring him down.

"I'm sorry, Lydia." He moved his glasses further up the bridge of his nose. "Your suitcases are pretty heavy!"

The raven-haired female chuckled before glancing up to her surrogate father; Adam would always have that hint of a goofball. "It's fine. I should be the one apologizing for having so many things to pack up in the first place."

By now, Barbara had already gotten up and was standing by the pushed in chair that she had been sitting in only moments ago. Seeing his cue, Adam stepped in beside her and wrapped his left arm around her back, hand lightly grasping her left hip before pulling her closer into his frame. Then, both sets were upon their surrogate daughter, whom was glancing down at her small cup of coffee instead of them.

She felt like a child again. She felt like the Maitlands were scolding her. They weren't . . . But the whole situation pointed that way. It felt like a crime to leave the couple after everything that the three of them had been through. Lydia would have to move on, however; Barbara had even admitted to knowing this. What would the Maitlands even do why she was gone? What did they do those three months before her family even moved in? Decorate? Work on that model? Nothing? . . . Did they still act as they were alive? Did they—oh no. Lydia knew exactly why they were this upset. They considered her _their _daughter, didn't they? Not just their surrogate daughter, but their _actual _daughter. Her leaving crushed them, but they had such a cool exterior. When Lydia glanced up, Barbara nervously glanced from her pink slippers to Adam, whom was lovingly petting her brown, curly locks in comfort.

Lydia's gaze was then set upon the wall clock in the kitchen that had three hands that revolved around a rooster. The big one was set just past the twelve, the little one on the three, and the red one was furiously spinning around.

"I have to leave."

The Maitlands looked crushed.

Lydia rose silently and walked up to her dead, surrogate parents. The two of them both offered a hand and enveloped Lydia in a tight squeeze. The young woman buried her head into their grasp slightly, before realizing how strange that might've seemed because she was now grown up, and pulled back, giving each ghost a curt nod and a small smile.

"I love you guys."

"We love you too." They spoke in unison.

Outside, her car was waiting, already packed up with other suitcases and bags of hers, as well as her photography equipment. The trio of a deformed family walked into the living room, where Lydia promptly lifted the heavy suitcase and began stumbling towards the door. Finally, a pale hand reached out and gripped the knob while her head was staring straight ahead. The middle-aged couple behind her waited until she walked outside to wave her off (they would've walked her out, but they'd only end up on Saturn, you see). Instead, both of their expressions changed from sorrowful ones into shocked ones as Lydia dropped the suitcase and spun around, hot tears streaming down her cheeks. In an instant, she was already tackling Adam and Barbara's bodies in another bear hug, one that was much tighter than before. Still startled, but on instant, the same arms that latched onto Lydia had sprung out again, and held her close while Barbara nuzzled her head upon Lydia's, Adam's on Barbara's. After what seemed to be forever, but only lasted a few moments, the three of them pulled apart. Lydia headed back to the door and picked up her last suitcase before stepping outside with a final goodbye.

That was it. She was gone.

Throwing her arms around her husband's neck, Barbara sobbed onto Adam, finally releasing the built-up emotions that she refused to let Lydia see. After adjusting his glasses slowly, Adam, himself, found the corners of his eyes pricking with tears. One managed to escape and slide down his face briskly; he inhaled deeply, once again petting his wife's hair for comfort.

Lydia didn't leave Winter River all at once. She made a small pit-stop first.

There weren't many graves in the local cemetery, so it wasn't hard finding the ones that she had come to see. The suitcase that Adam had been trying to drag down the stairs held some items of hers and a shovel, which was now in her hands. Quickly glancing around to make sure that no one else was near, Lydia quickly began digging a small hole in between of the two graves, which resulted in being about haft a foot deep. Then, she reached into her pocket and discarded a few photos into the hole, before covering it back up with dirt and proceeding back to her car.

The pictures were of her, when she was younger. She assumed that they were taken by her late mother or her father, but either way, they would do. Some signified important events for her, such as graduating kindergarten or when she finally learned how to ride a bike; others were just pictures of her, taking a random times. The last picture that she had thrown in was of the Maitlands, or, rather, two sheets that lacked feet.

The hole was dug between two graves marked Adam and Barbara Maitland.


End file.
